


Grant My Love a Pardon

by parnase



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 17:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parnase/pseuds/parnase
Summary: "This magic inside of me - it’s yours. My magic is yours, Arthur. It always has been.” He leans forward until there’s nothing but his eyes looking into Arthur’s, their faces mere inches apart, their breaths mingling as one. “You won’t kill me. And I won’t leave you.”





	Grant My Love a Pardon

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man i was just thinking even though its canon im sick of Merlin crying and begging for his life when Arthur finds out about his magic. so i thought i would make something gentle and strong out of their relationship.  
> The title is from The Garden by Mirah

Looking back on it, Arthur should have witnessed Merlin’s greatest secret in a violent, bloody moment. In a moment that existed before the breath of their last, in a desperate last move to save them and damn himself.

But Merlin never does what Arthur expects.

Arthur turns a corner and it changes his life. 

Gaius told him Merlin was at the tavern - as usual - with shifty eyes and twiddling fingers that Arthur usually credits to his old age. 

This time, he’s had enough. He’ll tell the barmaid himself that Merlin isn’t to be served alcohol upon pain of the stocks. It’s drastic, but it’s getting tiresome having to interact with servants who do everything he says without complaint.

So Arthur turns a corner and sees Merlin crouched in the dirt, his hand outstretched towards an injured and hostile cat. He stays where he is and watches for a moment. Seeing Merlin interact with others in that gentle way of his always makes Arthur feel somewhat breathless, simultaneously jealous and awed.

He has always known that Merlin hides a part of himself from Arthur, but he could never imagine it to be something bad. Not when Merlin is so  _ good _ .

The cat limps over to Merlin’s hand and sniffs it warily. The smile that Merlin gives it is bright and welcoming, and he brushes his fingers through the cat’s fur, nudging it closer to him until it sits at his feet.

Arthur is close enough to hear Merlin’s quiet chuckle when the cat headbuts his hand roughly. He’s close enough to hear the words that Merlin mutters under his breath.

“ _ Þurhhæle _ .”

Those blue eyes flash a brilliant and unmistakable gold, and just like that Arthur’s world has been flipped upside down.

The word echoes in his mind, over and over again until it becomes meaningless - not that Arthur knows its meaning - as Merlin nudges the cat. It bounds off happily, leg healed up and looking a little less ragged.

Merlin stands and watches it go, still holding that small smile upon his face.

Arthur swallows down the anger and betrayal he feels. That word, those eyes… They couldn’t belong to  _ Merlin _ of all people. Not his manservant, who dressed him and fed him and saved his life. Not  _ Merlin _ , who refused to treat Arthur with a king’s respect but still held him in the highest regard.

Arthur shifts on his feet and Merlin glances over. When he sees Arthur, his smile widens. Carefree, beautiful, a little bit daft. Merlin smiles with all he has, and Arthur can’t stop looking into those blue eyes and seeing them gold.

He clears his throat. He’s rather good at burying unpleasant emotions, as befitting the prince of a stubborn and often foolish king. “I need you to attend to me at once, Merlin,” he barks out.

Merlin’s smile dims slightly. “I was just-”

“-going to attend me  _ at once _ ,” Arthur butts in. “Honestly, Merlin, the tavern will still be there tomorrow.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Of course,  _ sire _ ,” he mutters, but there’s no bitterness in his tone.

Arthur turns sharply on his heel and strides off, leaving Merlin and taking his conflicting emotions with him.

 

Merlin slips into the royal chambers easily, like he’s done a million times before. He doesn’t notice Arthur sitting at the table and staring into the cold, empty fireplace. He doesn’t notice the war raging inside him, the way Arthur’s fingers wrap tightly around his armrest so they don’t find the pommel of his sword.

Arthur, for his part, can’t stop the images spinning through his mind. Merlin, with golden eyes and a traitorous mouth. Merlin, lying to him  _ over _ and  _ over _ . Merlin, smiling at the small, injured cat. Merlin, with a noose wrapped around his neck. Merlin, looking away as another sorcerer is burned at the stake.

Arthur takes a shuddering breath, prompting Merlin to look up at him.

“Not even you can persuade a fire to light if you glare at it enough,” Merlin jokes. He bustles past Arthur and sets about clearing the fireplace of charred wood.

_ Now _ . This is Arthur’s opportunity. He can’t bend reality with words like Merlin can, but he can do this, he can topple Merlin’s world, he can change  _ them _ forever.

“No,” Arthur replies casually. “But you can.”

Merlin smirks at him. “I’m afraid my glare isn’t that powerful, sire.”

That’s when Arthur realises that Merlin is an idiot. He’s an  _ idiot _ . He came to Camelot knowing any wrong move would end in his death. He served Arthur in a court that would cheer for his death. He has gotten away with hiding his magic from Arthur for so long that he’s gotten careless, he isn’t on his guard, he isn’t wary.

Arthur loosens his fingers and rubs them, staring at the back of Merlin’s head as he works.

“Merlin,” he starts. He earns a grunt in return. “I’ve never asked for your opinion on sorcery.”

Merlin’s shoulders tense, and Arthur’s stomach drops.

“I know there are many in Camelot that don’t appreciate the stance I have on it,” he continues. His heart is beating so hard that he’s afraid Merlin won’t hear him over the sound. “I was wondering if you were one of them.”

Merlin unfreezes and continues to work. Arthur wishes he could see his face. 

“I don’t know, sire,” he answers, his voice quiet and guarded. “I don’t like watching the executions.”

Arthur looks away. His room is dimly lit as the sun’s light fades. The man in front of him is a stranger. He thought he knew Merlin; he thought he knew Merlin to be a terrible liar and terribly trustworthy friend.

“Merlin.” His voice is hard and threatening. It’s the only thing he can think to do; to threaten, to harm. If he gave magic an inch it would do the same to him. “I know you’re a sorcerer.”

Merlin straightens and turns around. There’s no denial on his face, no fear. He stares at Arthur openly.

Arthur notes distantly that this is probably the most defiant and honest Merlin has ever been with him.

“How did you find out?”

Arthur doesn’t need confirmation but Merlin’s words settle in his stomach like nausea. “I saw you heal the cat today.”

“Well?” Merlin asks. His voice isn’t cheerful. It isn’t angry, or afraid. It’s expectant. “Are you going to kill me? Throw me in a cell and behead me in front of all of Camelot?”

Arthur runs a hand through his hair and stands up. “I don’t know! How could you?”

“How could I be a sorcerer?”

“ _ Yes _ !”

Merlin shrugs, but his whole body is tense. “I didn’t learn the art of sorcery, Arthur. I was born with it. It’s something that just happened to me.”

Arthur’s world is in pieces at his feet and the only real thing he has left is Merlin’s betrayal. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Arthur demands coldly.

Merlin lifts his chin. “You should,” he replies. There’s some fear now, some desperation that fills his eyes and makes his breath ragged. “Magic is banned in Camelot on pain of death. Every time I use my magic - even if I do it accidentally - I am breaking the law.”

Arthur goes cold at those words. As usual, Merlin is voicing the thoughts Arthur doesn’t want to face. But although every word he speaks is rational and true, it feels wrong. Arthur wants to shut him up, he wants to reach over and put his hand over Merlin’s mouth.

“But you’re wrong. The law is wrong. Magic isn’t evil, and I don’t deserve death.” Merlin’s hard courage gives way to that gentle look he gives Arthur when they’re alone and Arthur most needs it.

Arthur turns away. He can’t stand to see that look in a man he trusted with the most vulnerable parts of himself. Not when Merlin has to die by his order.

“I have to…” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “You have to - You have to die, Merlin. It’s the law. I can’t suffer a sorcerer to live.”

“You’re the king. You can do anything.”

Arthur whirls around, and Merlin flinches. “Are you pleading for your life then? Asking me to spare you when  _ hundreds _ have died before you for the same crime?”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t want to be an exception, Arthur. I want you to change it. I want magic to have a home in Camelot once more.”

Arthur takes a step towards Merlin, every muscle in his body tense and ready for violence. “Why aren’t you scared? I could kill you right now.”

Merlin closes his eyes for a brief second, and when he opens them Arthur sees something old, tired, and strong in his eyes. He stares at Arthur in resignation.

“You won’t. I could leave in a split second, Arthur. Before you even drew your sword.” He clenches his jaw in frustration. “I never meant to hurt you. Everything I do - every time I use my magic… It’s for you. It’s only ever been for you.”

Arthur shakes his head. “How can I believe anything you say?” he asks weakly. “I  _ trusted _ you, Merlin. You…”

Merlin takes a step forward, his face shutting down when Arthur takes a step back. “I’ve saved your life more times than I can count, Arthur.” He takes another step forward and Arthur’s back hits the bedpost. “This magic inside of me - it’s yours. My magic is yours, Arthur. It always has been.” He leans forward until there’s nothing but his eyes looking into Arthur’s, their faces mere inches apart, their breaths mingling as one. “You won’t kill me. And I won’t leave you.”

“Do you…” Arthur glances at Merlin’s lips - a weapon as dangerous as Arthur’s sword, those lips that uttered spells and offered insults just as readily. “Do you have to be so right all the time?”

Merlin leans back, surprised. “I didn’t expect to be,” he says warily. “You’re not going to kill me?”

Arthur shoves Merlin gently away. “No I’m not going to bloody kill you. I ought to,” he adds, glaring at the wide-eyed look Merlin is giving him. “But I can’t.”

“Sire-”

Arthur sits back down at the table. “Light the fire with your magic,” he demands.

Merlin hesitates. He looks at the fireplace warily. “What?”

“Light the fire.”

He takes a deep breath, and Arthur can see the hope on his face, as painful to see as fear would be. He holds out a hand confidently, as though he’s done this a million times before. No words are muttered, no spell is cast. The fire sparks up and settles into a gentle burning. Arthur can’t take his eyes off Merlin, his hand outstretched and his eyes golden.

Arthur thinks of the cat.

“Have you killed with it, Merlin?” Arthur asks. He doesn’t know why he asked; he won’t like the answer.

Merlin gives him a solemn look. “Yes.”

Arthur’s exhale is shaky. He should have noticed. Merlin was always innocent and gentle. Arthur remembers the first time he had seen Merlin kill a man with a sword. Self-defense of course, but taking a life for the first time rattles anyone.

Merlin hadn’t been rattled, and Arthur thought he was brave for it.

“Who?”

Merlin sighs heavily, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know, Arthur,” he snaps. “Bandits, Morgana’s mercenaries.” He stops abruptly and looks away. “Agravaine.”

A laugh is startled out of Arthur, high-pitched and disbelieving. “Agravaine.  _ You _ killed Agravaine.”

Merlin glares at Arthur. “I have some talent, you know.”

Arthur stares into the flame, his laugh dead in his throat. “Obviously,” he replies thickly.

Merlin sits down across the table from him, leveling Arthur with one of those wise looks that irritated Arthur. “What do we do now?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. Can he go back to polishing Arthur’s armour now that Arthur knows that he’s a powerful sorcerer?

Merlin shrugs. “You could lift the ban on magic.” When Arthur shoots him a look, he shrugs casually. “Just a suggestion, sire.”

His cheeky tone relaxes Arthur somewhat. “You would say that, wouldn’t you,” he mutters.

“I’m tired of hiding, Arthur. I save your life over and over and get called useless and weak afterwards. If you lift the ban on magic, I can protect you properly.”

Arthur scoffs. “I don’t need your protection.”

A series of complicated emotions pass over Merlin’s face before he settles on mild annoyance. “Right. All those rock falls were  _ convenient _ , were they? Your wounds heal on their own, do they?”

Arthur opens his mouth to argue, and then promptly shuts it. He takes a moment to allow the pieces to fall into place, the questions to be answered, the gaps to be filled.

And then he grabs Merlin’s hand.

Merlin goes still under his touch, staring at their joined fingers. Arthur wants to pull away. He tightens his grip instead.

“You weren’t lying when you said that your magic is for me,” he says.

Merlin nods. He bites his lip and looks up at Arthur. His eyes are golden but there’s no display of magic. Just Merlin, just magic.

“How much have you done for me?” Arthur asks softly.

“Enough for a raise, I think,” Merlin jokes stiffly. His eyes are shining, and when they fade back into his blue Arthur can see the tears in them yet to fall.

“I need you.” Arthur strokes Merlin’s hand with his thumb once before letting go. “I need you to show me that your magic can be used for good. That all magic can be used for good.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, dropping his hand back into his lap. “My magic is yours to command, sire,” he says, as cheeky as ever but with honesty that makes Arthur breathless.

Arthur waves a hand. “I’m dismissing you for the night. I have a lot to think about.”

Merlin stands and turns to leave, but stops a few feet from the door and looks back at Arthur. “I hated it,” he says quietly. “I hated lying to you. And I won’t lie to you ever again.”

Arthur looks up at him and nods. “I trust you, Merlin,” he says, and it’s the truest thing he’s ever said.

 

Of course nothing is ever that easy in Merlin’s experience.

Arthur works him ragged every night. Sometimes it’s simple things: lighting the fire, conjuring small animals, healing the odd paper cut. 

Sometimes they sneak off to the fields and that's where Merlin lets it all go. He hadn’t been so free with his magic since Ealdor, growing entire forests and then returning them back to the earth.

Every time he used his magic Arthur would flinch, unable to hide the fear and hatred in his eyes. At least, not from Merlin.

But over time Merlin did exactly as Arthur asked; he showed Arthur the harmless wonders of magic, the tiny miracles he could perform without a second thought. It was a relief, he thinks, to be able to use his magic in such a pure way. No violence, no wounds, no desperation. Just Arthur’s eyes watching him as he creates ephemeral miracles.

He doesn’t realise he’s forgotten about the harsh reality for his kind until a sorcerer is arrested right inside the citadel, right in front of him.

The woman was wild and fierce as she glared at the guards, but Merlin had seen her a moment before, gently touching a child’s broken ankle and healing it with a muttered word. No one could hear the word over the child’s screams, but they could see her eyes.

He could only stand there as a passing guard held her at swordpoint, the hatred and fear in his voice an ugly feeling settling in Merlin’s stomach.

He remembers Arthur’s reaction in Ealdor when he conjured the wind to save them all.

“Kill me,” she spits. “Get your precious king to do it himself. I’ve done nothing wrong.” She looks so painfully like Morgana that Merlin has to look away.

He bursts into the council room in a desperate panic, Arthur’s eyes finding him immediately and narrowing in annoyance.

“I need to speak with you, sire.  _ Now _ .” 

Leon - to his credit - doesn’t gasp at the command in Merlin’s voice, but some of the other knights murmur among themselves.

“You can’t speak to me like that, Merlin. I’m the king,” Arthur says tiredly, gesturing to Leon.

Merlon doesn’t have a smart retort for that. Leon gives him a concerned look as he exits, and Gwaine claps him on the shoulder, but he doesn’t take his eyes off his king.

When they’re alone, Merlin strides across the room and braces his hands on the table. “A sorcerer has just been arrested.”

Arthur blinks. “Oh.” He’s come to the same realisation that Merlin had; that the real world exists outside the one of their making.

Merlin clenches his jaw. “They’re your laws.”

Arthur shifts in his chair. “What were they doing?”

“She was healing a child of a broken ankle. Arthur, you can’t execute her.”

He leans forward, his expression tight and uncomfortable. “I can’t just dismiss her, Merlin. Not if there were witnesses.”

Merlin straightens and crosses his arms. “If she burns at the stake, you have to burn me with her.” His voice is calm and determined. 

Arthur’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Merlin, don’t be ridiculous, I’m not  _ burning _ you-”

“If you imprison her, you have to imprison me,” Merlin adds. “If you behead her, you have to behead-”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Arthur snaps, slamming a fist on the table. Merlin stares at him cooly, and he drops his head into his hands. “I couldn’t do that, Merlin. You  _ know _ I couldn’t.”

“Then what will you do?”

The moment of silence between them is heavy with the weight of what is and what could be.

Arthur looks up at Merlin, looking young and frightened. “The only thing I can do,” he says. “I’ll lift the ban on magic.” When he exhales Merlin isn’t sure if it’s with relief or trepidation.

He smiles brilliantly. It’s the kind of smile he gives Arthur every day for every reason. “I know you will do what is right, sire.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and the tension in the room fades away. “Is there anything else you would like?” he snarks. “Why don’t you just take the entire kingdom from me while you’re at it.”

Merlin shrugs. “I’m afraid I could never be a prat like you, Arthur, let alone a royal one.”

Arthur tries to hide his smile by ducking his head but he can never hide anything from Merlin. “Send the knights back in. Have the sorcerer sent to the guest chambers in the meantime.”

Merlin nods, still smiling, and strides out of the door. 

The knights are loitering by the stairs when Merlin sees them. Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “That was quick. We thought you’d be in there for hours.”

“What for? I just had to tell him something,” Merlin replies vaguely.

Gwaine sighs in disappointment, grabbing his coin purse and shaking out a few gold. Percival holds his hands out for them with a carefully blank face.

Merlin frowns at the exchange. “He wants you back in there.”

“What  _ were _ you talking to him about,” Leon asks. He’s never usually so curious, and he smiles innocently when Merlin shoots him a suspicious look.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you himself.” He gives them all a stern look. “If you lot would stop gossiping and go attend to your king we can all avoid one of his foul moods.”

Leon clears his throat and nods shortly at Merlin. Elyan shakes his head at Merlin. Lancelot claps a hand on his shoulder

He thinks he’s missed something.

 

Arthur curses the day Merlin saved his life and became his manservant. The knights are all staring at him and because of how he’s championed  _ equality _ and created the Round Table, he can see every single one of their expectant and curious looks.

He clears his throat. “A sorcerer was arrested in Camelot today.” That in itself is news for Camelot; sorcerers - or at least  _ smart _ sorcerers - tend to avoid the city and haven’t been caught within its walls in a year or two.

Arthur meets Leon’s eyes. “I’m pardoning her.”

Lancelot shifts uneasily in his seat. Arthur wonders what he has to be so uneasy about.

“Why?” Gwaine asks. “Why are you pardoning a sorcerer instead of killing her?”

Arthur takes a deep breath. There is only one thing he can think of that can persuade the knights into understanding.

“Merlin is a sorcerer,” he says, a simple statement of fact.

Arthur watches the reactions of the knights and they’re all different - shock, realisation, disbelief.

Gwaine’s smile is wide and amused on his face - he’s never shared the hatred of sorcerers like the knights from Camelot have.

Elyan’s jaw is clenched and his face unreadable. Arthur can’t blame him. The death penalty of sorcery orphaned him and Gwen. He tries not to think about everyone else it’s orphaned.

It was Lancelot that caught Arthur’s eye. He leans back in his chair, looking as though the revelation Arthur had just shared was inevitable.

“ _ Merlin _ ?” Leon just looks baffled. “He is not.”

“I think I would know, Leon,” Arthur continues. “I spend every day with him.”

Lancelot leans forward. “How did you find out?”

Gwaine opens his mouth before Arthur can reply. “That sneaky bastard,” he says, shaking his head.

“Look, it doesn’t matter whether or not Merlin is a sorcerer,” Arthur interrupts impatiently, even though it matters a great deal. “He has shown me that sorcery itself isn’t inherently evil. I cannot sanction the execution of this sorcerer.”

Elyan folds his arms. “What about those who use sorcery to harm us? To harm Camelot?”

“Sorcery is just another tool,” Lancelot argues. “In the right hands, it’s used for the greater good. In the right hands it can help protect Camelot.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at Lancelot. “Lancelot is right. We made sorcery our enemy when we started hating it. If Morgana… If Morgana had grown into her powers without being afraid of them, I have no doubt she would have used them in service of Camelot. We have created what we fear by hating it. But Merlin… Merlin has only ever used his magic for Camelot.”

“For you,” Lancelot interjects.

Percival shrugs. “I don’t understand why we need to discuss it. Merlin is the kindest man I know. I will not see him beheaded.” He looks at Arthur. “I support your decision to lift the ban.”

“So do I,” Lancelot announces in that sincere way he does everything.

Leon hesitates. “Your father would not approve,” he reminds Arthur, as though it needed reminding. “But I will support you. He was not right in this.”

Arthur gives him a grateful nod. Leon was his oldest and closest knight. He had served Uther honourably and has continued to serve Arthur the same. Arthur would have hated to make this decision without his assent.

Elyan shrugs. “I’m with you, Arthur,” he says simply. It’s easy to see Gwen saying the same thing with the same earnest honesty.

Arthur looks at Gwaine, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling. After a moment of silence he looks back down. “What?” He flashes Arthur a grin. “Do you really think I would support Merlin’s execution? Of course I’m with you, Arthur.” 

“And if I had decided to execute Merlin?” Arthur asks him quietly.

Gwaine raises his eyebrows. “Well, we’re lucky it will never come to that.” It’s as good as a treasonous statement, something Uther would have killed over.

But Arthur is not his father. And having someone on Merlin’s side is somewhat reassuring. That he can rely on someone else to protect Merlin if Arthur couldn’t.

“So, magic is welcome at Camelot once more,” Leon declares. 

 

And it’s that easy. Arthur passed the law and released the sorcerer arrested, granting him one of Merlin’s brightest smiles yet.

There was very little dissent from the people of Camelot, but those who came forth and claimed to be sorcerers were regarded with some suspicion. Decades of fear were hard to wash away, but the headache it gave Arthur disappeared whenever he saw someone growing magical flowers in the courtyard or petitioning for a Healer’s Guild in the citadel.

The feast Arthur throws on Gwen’s suggestion takes up all of the Great Hall and castle courtyard. Sorcerers put on shows of magic, kept the bad weather at bay, kept the room warm and the tankards full. Arthur isn’t sure how Camelot survived without magic before.

Merlin is relieved from his duties as a manservant and free to mingle and enjoy the festivities.

Arthur reaches for his goblet. He’s unused to filling it himself, but he would hate to pull Merlin away from a celebration he earned.

When he lifts it, he finds it already full to the brim. He glances up at Merlin, a few feet away and chatting with Lancelot. Merlin meets his eyes and gives him a wink. His cheeks are red and his hands are gesticulating sloppily, so he’s already well past tipsy.

Arthur looks away and takes a sip. It’s his favourite wine. Something pleased and warm blossoms within him that Merlin takes the time to create small miracles for  _ him _ .

That is, until he sees Merlin conjure a flower and present it to Gwaine, who takes it with a smirk.

“You’re glaring,” Gwen says. She’s standing behind him, still wearing her servant’s dress even though Arthur had insisted she join the party.

“I’m not,” he replies automatically.

“He’s happy,” she notes, taking the seat next to Arthur. “I’ve never seen him this happy before.”

Arthur glares at casual arm Gwaine slings around Merlin’s shoulders. “Maybe I  _ am _ glaring,” he admits, but it’s the wine talking. He takes another sip.

Gwen looks at him softly. “Merlin is the best of all of us, I think,” she says. “Imagine how hard it must have been for him. To save you over and over and have you think he’s just a servant.”

“He was never  _ just _ a servant, Guinevere, Arthur snaps. “He was never  _ just _ anything.”

Gwen straightens. “I know that,” she says. “Does he?”

Arthur glowers at his goblet. “Probably.”

She shakes her head. “Arthur, this is a party. Try and enjoy it. For his sake,” she says, tilting her head in Merlin’s direction. “He hates it when you’re in a mood.”

She gets up to leave, but Arthur grabs her arm.

“Guinevere… Do you think Morgana… would she ever forgive me?”

Gwen bites her lip. “No. I don’t think she will. But this night isn’t about her, is it? It’s about Merlin.”

Arthur looks back at Merlin, caught in mid laugh between the attentions of Lancelot and Gwaine, his happiness brighter than any magical light in the hall. “It’s always about Merlin,” he says softly.

Gwen pats his shoulder and walks away, leaving him with his goblet of wine and some half-realised feeling making his heart beat faster.

Arthur must have had more wine than he realised, because he didn’t notice Merlin get up until Merlin was dropping into the seat next to him, sloppy and happy.

“You’re not enjoying yourself, sire,” he notes cheerfully.

Arthur scoffs into his goblet. “I’m having a blast.”

Merlin bumps his shoulder into Arthur. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He scans the room, his eyes landing on all the small and casual displays of magic filling the hall.

“Merlin,” Arthur starts, his eyes watching Merlin carefully while he watches the party. “Morgana is the High Priestess of the Old Religion. Don’t the sorcerers owe their fealty to her?”

Merlin shakes his head with a small smile on his face. “Arthur,” he sighs, as though Arthur was being foolish. “We choose our own fates and masters. I chose to give my magic to you instead of Cenred. I choose not to follow Morgana. These sorcerers here, right now, will serve you.”

“How do you know?”

Merlin shrugs. “I just do.” He twirls his fingers and creates a small burst of sparks. “I have one last secret to share with you, sire.”

Arthur leans towards him eagerly. “Tell me,” he demands.

Merlin leans in as well, just enough that he doesn’t have to raise his voice to be heard over the music. “I’m the greatest sorcerer to ever walk this earth.” Arthur just stares at him, and he smiles. “I mean, that’s what I’ve been told.”

Arthur frowns. “ _ You _ ? Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.” He falls back into his seat and holds his goblet out expectantly.

Merlin taps it with a finger and it immediately becomes heavier. Arthur takes a sip and glares at Merlin. “ _ Wine _ , Merlin. Not water.” He holds the goblet out again.

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “I’m not on duty tonight, sire. If you want wine, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “You’re the worst manservant a king has ever had the misfortune of having.”

Merlin nudges him. “Cheered you up, didn’t I?”

Arthur grumbles under his breath. “Lancelot knew, didn’t he?”

Merlin’s smile drops off his face. “Yeah,” he admits. “He found out.”

“How?” Arthur demands. How could Merlin trust his secret to  _ Lancelot _ , how could he not trust Arthur-

“The griffin can only be killed with magic, Arthur,” Merlin reminds him in a tone that says  _ you idiot _ between the lines. “Apparently when I was enchanting his weapon, I was speaking a bit too loud.”

Arthur snorts. “You do.” He pauses. “And he kept your secret?”

Merlin shrugs. “I don’t know why he didn’t just turn me in.”

Arthur looks over at the knights, laughing raucously and shouting with enthusiasm they borrowed from the drink. “I think it’s because everyone seems to be in love with you, Merlin, Arthur says casually, even though something in his chest tightens bitter-sweetly. “God knows why.”

Merlin glances at him in surprise. “In love with me?” He frowns. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Arthur chokes on the water as it goes down and tries to play it off as a snort of laughter.

Merlin pats him on the back and stands up to rejoin his friends. He twirls Gwen around when he walks past her, and they exchange equally bright smiles.

The knights welcome him back with shouts and laughter. Arthur can hear Gwaine demand more magic, and sees the small smile on Merlin’s face as he obliges and magics a blue, glowing bird out of thin air. A falcon - a merlin. 

The bird soars through the hall and Merlin sits down and watches it.

Arthur jumps as the bird lands in front of him, tilting its head at him curiously before cawing loudly. He can hear all the knights laughing but he ignores them and stretches his hand out.

The merlin regards him warily for a moment before squawking loudly and nipping his finger. It takes off and flies around the hall, never landing, just circling.

Arthur looks at Merlin and sees the blush on his cheeks as he watches his bird. It’s free and wild, and Arthur thinks he’s never made a decision more important for the kingdom than freeing Merlin and his magic.

 

Merlin is listening to a rather scandalous boyhood story from Percival of all people when he sees the assassin. He gets no points for subtlety, dressed in dark clothes and leathers and sporting a furious face.

Arthur, having finally loosened up after Merlin’s merlin nipped him, is laughing with Leon, his back turned as the assassin approaches.

Merlin stands, knocking Gwaine’s arm from his shoulders and spilling his drink. He’s startled into sobriety and makes his way to Arthur deftly, weaving through servants and dancers alike.

The assassin draws a blade. Merlin is still too far away, there are still too many people between them, there isn’t enough time.

Merlin stops in his tracks, clenching his fists before stretching his fingers out. He lets the magic leak out of them and it’s eager to oblige. The room quietens, the music stops, the magic of the night holds its breath.

Merlin walks through the frozen crowd and finds Arthur, his goblet halfway to his lips, staring at Merlin as though he had just performed a miracle.

“What on earth-”

Merlin ignores him and stares at the assassin, his blade inches from Arthur’s side. He snatches the dagger and casts a look back at Arthur, shrugging. Arthur stands up abruptly, tipping his chair over.

Merlin had meant to freeze him as well, or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe some part of him wanted Arthur to see him, to see what he does for him on a near-daily basis.

Arthur gestures to the room with his goblet, spilling water everywhere. “This was you?” he asks faintly.

Merlin nods. “I thought it was best no one assassinated the king tonight of all nights,” he says.

Arthur laughs somewhat hysterically. “Right.”

Merlin places the dagger on the table and lies a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, I would never let anything happen to you.”

Arthur looks at him with a world of vulnerability in his eyes. “How did you know?”

Merlin bites his lip. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I think my magic knew.” He pulls away and faces the assassin, his face twisted in bitter satisfaction.

“I guess not everyone is happy with my decree,” Arthur mutters.

“What do you want me to do with him, sire?” Merlin picks the dagger back up and regards it carefully.

He studies the man carefully and casts a look across the frozen room. “The timing is perfect, don’t you think? An assassin sent to kill the king, only to be stopped by magic?” He grins and pats Merlin’s shoulder, waving a hand. “Undo… this. Let everyone see, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitates. “I don’t know-”

“You’ve been hiding for so long,” Arthur murmurs, his mouth at Merlin’s ear, his breath hot on his neck. Merlin shivers with the intimacy of it. “You’ve been saving my life without reward or recognition all this time. Let the world know, Merlin.” His voice drops to a hoarse whisper, his mouth brushing Merlin’s ear. “Let them see you as I do.”

Merlin swallows down his indecision. Arthur is steady as his back, Arthur wants him to do this. Merlin can’t argue with his orders, not this time.

He unfreezes time.

The assassin stumbles forward with the loss of his blade. Arthur steps back as he lunges forward.

Merlin spins the dagger in his hand and strikes the assassin down with the pommel of his own blade. The assassin falls to the ground at Merlin’s feet and he stands over him grimly.

The commotion draws attention and the music dies down on its own. Leon stands immediately, grabbing the assassin and hoisting him up. He looks at Merlin in confusion.

“Take him to the dungeon, Leon,” Arthur orders.

Leon nods and Lancelot stands to help him drag the unconscious man out of the hall. Every eye in the hall is turned to Merlin, standing there with a dagger in his hand, watching the man being dragged out with serious eyes.

Arthur turns to the crowd. “People of Camelot,” he starts. “Tonight is a celebration of the return of magic to Camelot. Magic is a tool like any other. It can be used to heal, to protect, to kill. There will be many who still fear and hate magic for the harm it can bring.” He glances at Merlin. “But tonight Merlin, my manservant, saved my life with his magic. As I’m told he has done many times before.

“Magic has always been at the heart of Camelot. I vow that as long as I am king, we will never fear it again. We will use magic to protect our homes and our loved ones. We will use it to heal and to protect.” Arthur reaches for his hand and Merlin lets him take it and hold it high. “For Camelot!”

“For Camelot!” the crowd cheers. There are smiles everywhere, laughter and cheers and music.

Arthur lowers their hands, untangling their fingers and sitting back down.

Merlin takes Leon’s seat. “Well. That went better than I expected,” he says faintly.

Arthur shrugs. “Don’t get too big for your breeches, Merlin,” he replies flippantly. He glances at Merlin. “No matter how powerful you are, you’re still going to be polishing my armour and cleaning my chambers tomorrow.”

Merlin grins. “Of course,  _ sire _ .”

 

They stumble into the chambers together. Arthur had gotten his hands on some more wine, and Merlin had been given a drink by everyone in the feast, so he was no better off.

“Merlin,” Arthur slurs as he’s dragged to his bed.

Merlin doesn’t answer. He sits Arthur down and kneels to unlace his boots.

“ _ Merlin _ . Merlin. Merlin-”

“What?” Merlin groans.

Arthur flashes him a brilliantly drunk smile. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “You saved my life tonight.”

Merlin shrugs and pulls his boots off. “I do it all the time,” he replies casually.

Arthur’s hand finds his face and tilts his head up. “Thank you,” he breathes.

Merlin takes a deep breath. He feels nothing but Arthur’s warm fingers on his face. There is nothing else to feel.

He lights the fire with barely a thought. “Come on, dollop head,” he mutters, standing up and allowing Arthur’s fingers to fall from his face. “You need to get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

Arthur groans and flops back onto the bed. “I’m going to be hungover tomorrow,” he says regretfully. “Can you stop a hangover?”

“I can,” Merlin says, leaning against the bedpost. “But I’m not going to.”

Arthur lifts his head to glare at Merlin. “Why not? I’m your  _ king _ , Merlin. I command you to.”

Laughter bursts out of Merlin and lends a lightness to his mood. “A hangover once in a while is good for the soul,” he says. “It builds character.”

Arthur sits up with a frown. “Please?”

“No.”

“Merlin. You said your magic is  _ mine _ .” The way he says  _ mine _ sends something hot through Merlin’s body and he straightens. 

“It is,” he says gently, pushing Arthur back into bed.

Arthur grabs on to his shoulder and pulls him down with him. Merlin is acutely aware of where they touch - that is to say, everywhere. He braces his hands either side of Arthur’s head. “Arthur,” he murmurs in amusement. “What are you doing?”

Arthur leans his head up and kisses Merlin. His lips are soft and gentle, moving with Merlin’s lips as though he’s afraid if he applies any pressure Merlin would break.

Merlin kisses him back. He holds Arthur’s face with his hand and deepens it, the other hand curling around his arm to keep him in place. He deepens their kiss and takes everything Arthur can give him, pressing him deeper into the bed.

Arthur pulls away to breath Merlin’s name. When Merlin opens his eyes Arthur is watching him carefully, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“I’m yours, Arthur,” Merlin mumbles, leaning in for another kiss. Arthur drinks it in greedily, rising to meet Merlin and clutching at his waist with a tight grip that makes Merlin gasp.

Arthur moves to trail kisses down Merlin’s neck and he has to pull away to brace himself on the bed again. Arthur’s touches are careful and intimate, taking Merlin apart and holding him together.

“Spend the night with me,” Arthur murmurs against Merlin’s neck. His breath on Merlin’s skin makes him shiver. “ _ Merlin _ .”

Merlin nods, pulling Arthur’s head up for another kiss. “Okay,” he says. Perhaps this is a bad idea; his mouth is dry from the drink and Arthur couldn’t even unlace his own boots. Merlin has never made a drunken mistake but he’s heard they’re irreparable.

But it feels so right to have his lips against Arthur’s, to have their bodies flush against each other.

So Merlin, as always, gives Arthur all of himself.

 

Arthur wakes up with a pounding head and a bone-deep satisfaction that is all-too familiar.

He opens his eyes to see dark hair on the pillow beside him, and his first thought is  _ finally _ .

He doesn’t know where that thought comes from; he can’t ever recall any specific desire to have Merlin in his bed. To feel him beneath and on top of him, to hear his groans and gasps and drink in his kisses.

No, Arthur is certain he had never wanted those before.

He kicks out and Merlin mumbles into his pillow.

“ _ Merlin _ ,” he hisses. 

Merlin bolts up abruptly, his eyes droopy with sleep and his hair sticking up - a result of tugging it too much, Arthur thinks smugly. “Arthur!”

Arthur gives him a narrow-eyed glare. “Fix me.”

Merlin pulls his brows together in confusion, giving Arthur a quick once-over. “You look fine to me?”

“Well I don’t bloody well  _ feel _ fine, do I?” Arthur snaps.

Merlin grins and raises his hand to press a barely-there touch to Arthur’s temple. The pain fades, and the nausea settles. Arthur smiles with the relief.

Merlin drops his hand into his lap and fidgets like he always does when he has something on his mind. Arthur wonders how Merlin ever managed to hide anything from Arthur when he knew him better than he knows himself.

Arthur grabs his hand to still it. “You’re thinking awfully loudly.”

Merlin shrugs. Arthur watches the movement of those bare shoulders, pale and blemished with bruises. “I’ve never slept with a king before.”

“I’ve never slept with a sorcerer.” He’s not sure if they’re using the right word for the drunken blur of passion and intimacy last night.

Merlin grins, wild and free. “Can I have the day off then?”

Arthur grabs a pillow and whacks him with it. “No you cannot have the day off,  _ Merlin _ .”

Merlin laughs and tugs the pillow free from Arthur’s grip. Arthur’s heart is so light he’s giddy with it, and he kisses Merlin again, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Merlin’s lips are still curled in a smile, which makes it a little bit difficult to continue kissing him, so Arthur moves his mouth to kiss his cheek, his jaw, and his neck, following the trail of bruises he left last night.

Merlin laughs breathlessly and pushes Arthur’s face away. “You should really get out of bed, sire. You have a meeting with your advisers before lunch.”

Arthur leans back in to nip at his neck before pressing a gentle kiss there. “There’s nothing more important than you right now.”

Merlin sighs. “ _ I _ have work to do.”

“Mmm hmm,” Arthur mumbles. He kisses away the frown Merlin’s sporting. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”

Merlin bites his lip. “Is this… Is this a one-time thing?”

Arthur pulls back to look at him, at the cautious look on his face, the wary hope. “No,” he answers simply.

“Then what is it?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. You’re  _ mine _ .” He grabs Merlin’s hand. “I’m not spending another night without you in my bed.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows. “Is that so,  _ sire _ ?”

Arthur ducks his head, his heart pounding with the need to say what he feels, say what his mind screams at him every time he touches Merlin. When he looks back up, Merlin is staring back at him steady and expectant.

“Stay with me. I don’t feel right without you and…” He tightens his grip on Merlin’s fingers. “And I want last night to be the beginning of something.”

Merlin smiles. It’s not wide or bright but small and gentle, like the kiss he gives Arthur. It lingers.

“I suppose we can stay in bed a little longer,” Merlin says. His eyes are golden and beautiful, and he's radiant in the sunlight.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so feel free to drop a comment yo i thrive off validation of my work


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